The judgment of man
Befalls the rebellious and
Righteous —
The former condemned in righteous hatred,
The latter asbsolved in righteous vindication.
Rain falls,
Yet for this time,
In this cold and brittle earth,
The rebellious man lifts his head
To the descending rainfall
Seeping beneath his soil, by which
He eats, lives, and will be buried.
The Life-Giver graces the rebellious man
With life in a redeemable image,
For the Rain-Maker has come once and
Died in His own image.
But the rebellious man, looking upwards,
Cries to the heavens
Shouting to curse the sky and its Maker.
For the sky and its rain poured down so heavily
That the floods rose and swept away
His only daughter,
Never to breathe again.
Despite the world against her innocence:
The rain continues to pour,
Unwavering and unanswered by the angry soul
Wanting the Rain-Maker to answer.
Expelling his being into the mist
Not far above his quivering lips and
Bloodshot eyes,
He rages, rages, rages —
Until his heart turns into sorrow.
He grieves,
Hoping that the sorrow
Will leave with his tears,
Yet he finds no comfort
Sinking his knees deeper into the irriguous dirt.
And so the rain pours.
Though, to the man, the callous of sorrow
Cannot be cleansed by this earthly water,
But must be cleansed by living water;
The Rain-Maker showers both,
Yet only one to the righteous.
So the Rain-Maker prods
At the rapid beating of the unjust’s heart —
For while it is sorrowful, rebellious,
And unrighteous,
The man and the Rain-Maker
Share in their image, and in that image
A heart —
Though shattered, as the mind of the man,
He can have the blood of the Life-Giver,
The Rain-Maker,
Heal his sinful wounds
And the scars lacerated by the edges
Of this cold and brittle earth.
No longer to hope for hope,
But to hope in Hope,
And have a Hope that heals
The rebellious heart,
Making righteous
By a Man —
No, far more than a mere man —
Who shared the same image,
The same hands,
Yet His pierced by nails.